


Sheets

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 11:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19700560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: Greed, Grime,  Glitter. Three word prompts asked by an anon via Tumblr.Three instances in where Emma dreams about Regina and the realization of what each dream entails.





	Sheets

_Greed: Post s5e21, Robin’s death. Obvious change from canon-related details._

The branches from the trees around the cemetery were heavy with the rain that kept pouring down, the pitter-patter sound muffling the sobs Emma could feel clawing up her throat. Biting on her bottom lip, she gazed at where the shadow of a new-made tomb awaited for her; the slab of stone she knew would eventually be placed still absent.

Guilt pushing through her ribcage, she glanced around, trying to locate the woman she could already sense; tears stopping as she felt two arms encircling her waist. Body answering to it in an almost automatic response - the kind of one she had learned to go to whenever Hook was close to her, she froze when rather than him the body that awaited for her was suppler, feminine, and giving her sparks that run through her with the magic she could already feel feeding hers.

Turning, she found herself staring at Regina; whose eyes dark, stormy and tired as she had last seen her, were rimmed in red and black where her mascara had begun to dry from the tears she had shed. Heart beating stronger, Emma tried to take a step back, detangle herself from an embrace that had her chest far too close to the older woman’s; breathing matching Regina’s and still feeling much more ragged. She, however, found her resolve to turn to smoke as her fingers curled possessively up Regina’s forearms, an imprint of dust floating behind. One that glimmered in the gold-hued light she had seen their conjoined magic take sometimes.

Opening her lips, she found herself mute as Regina tilted her head, her own lips parting in a mimic of a kiss that made Emma’s veins ablaze with magic that felt as heavy as gold and lead: keeping her where she was as her right hand traveled up, resting at the brunette’s shoulder in a shower of powder that made her whimper while everything else but the brunette disappeared in a hurricane of blacks and whites.

She needed to move away, she needed to stop whatever was happening, what was about to happen. Yet, she couldn’t, she didn’t want to, not with Regina’s warmth so close to hers, not with eyes hooded and dark directed at her with the barest of shadows in purples and lilacs. _Gorgeous_ came to her mind; the descriptor weak as she found the nerves of her neck tense; need and want transforming in yet another moan. A deeper one, one that made Regina change her smile from a smirk; one that made Emma swallow as she could only watch at her hand, at the way it left away faint imprints that grew with every second she spent touching at the brunette. A need that grew until it enveloped her completely.

She wanted to cry, to whisper apologies that she knew would be pointless time and time again, curse the darkness she still felt roaming inside of her. Her voice, however, didn’t come to her; trapped forever on her chest as she kept on staring, as she kept on feeling Regina’s hands around her heart as she pulled it apart, dividing it in two like she had done back at Hell, power radiating from the memory in a way that made her want to lounge forward.

She couldn’t, she knew as much but the reasons as of why not felt as empty, as broken, as fractured glass and so she kept on feeling her touch like sand; giving everything a glimmer that almost blinded her while she kept on trying to move away. For Regina, for herself. The brunette’s arms felt like fire around her waist. Not pushing, not moving away, and Emma could feel the inner side of Regina’s right forearm brush against the bone of her hip, the weight one that made her want far too much, far too quick.

She didn’t want to want, however. She had felt insatiable while she had been trapped in the gilded case that had been the Dark One, fingers reaching through bars made out of dreams and fears. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let herself feel that way. Not anymore.

And yet.

Yet she finally closed the remaining distance between both Regina and herself; her lips touching wrinkled blankets that were almost grey as she opened her eyes; midnight colors adorning the walls of a room that felt cold, alien.

Empty.

_Grime: Dark Swan arc. Camelot._

She could feel the weight of the dagger as it was taken away, as she gave it away with words of a promise she knew no other but the one who she was directing them to would ever be able to fulfill. She felt the blood of thousands of others stick to her fingers; running down her wrists as she took a step back into nothingness made of skulls and magic and broken deals that bubbled now on her tongue. Blurred images to creatures and worlds she didn’t know how to pronounce, she blinked away as she saw a red velvet dress, an off-one shoulder hairdo; brown and silky and calling for her to sunk her fingers in.

The very same fingers that felt covered in magic so thick she could almost feel it pulsate, darker than the day before; sinking deeper than an hour ago. She opened her mouth; a name coming to her in a mirror of her very same scream in the middle of a street from a place she didn’t know she would ever be able to call it home. Not anymore.

She, however, refused to blemish the curls, the skin, the face that called for her. Not even as she felt a pang after stab deep within her chest; the veins on her heart filling with a kind of darkness that made her stumble and gag as she rose her face to the sky; a very familiar vortex calling her; sucking her in.

She didn’t feel remorse not fear for what she had done. Not an ounce of regret. But she felt scared for what would come next; of what was already there, whispering and muttering just an inch, a silver, away from her conscious mind.

She wanted to reach, to touch, to ask for the dagger back. Her own name called for her; written in lines starkly embedded on the blade and she found her skin feverish at the thought of the dagger hidden away between folds; close to a chest that was still warm, that still beat with energy and magic that felt as if was beckoning her in.

Tongue heavy, she licked her lips as she tossed and turned; a lock of her hair shining silver through a reflection she knew she shouldn’t be able to truly see. Panic settling between her shoulders, around her stomach, through her very muscles; she called for Regina’s name with fingers clenching, curling, grasping a dress that wasn’t hers to wear, that didn’t feel like it was ever going to be: titles and expectations breaking atop her; a heavier one sitting at the very bottom of her spine.

Regina, however, her silhouette, a retreating one, not turned back to her, not even once. Not even when breathing ragged, she moved forward in an oily sea of thoughts and needs that went just as unanswered as the tears that began to burn through her skin. Acidic and poisonous.

Stumbling, she looked down, at where blood and darkness stared back at her in a continuous, never-ending thread that pulled her tighter and tighter until she couldn’t move anymore.

She had made a promise; she knew as much but the thought was as slippery as the guilt was and so she arched and retched; the sheets cold when she blinked back to Camelot’s; the bed that had been given to her covered in sweat and no sense of having fallen sleep at all.

_Glitter: Post s7._

There were stares and whispers that made her nervous even when she did not look around her. Not once. She could feel the stares that glimmered and shone through the corner of her eyes; stars that did not hold a candle to the only light that made her smile and stumble. She felt the need to run, to crash herself against the woman who was looking at her with a smile so full of something she could only describe as hopeful. She felt the prickling need running up her arms, blazing like thousand suns and so she kept her smile as poised as possible, blinding need taking her forward.

She knew how that had happened; with a crown and words that were whispered and shouted at the very same time in a dichotomy so very Regina, so very her, that made Emma bite her bottom lip as she tried to fight against diamond-cutting tears. The ones that escaped her at the very end. When nothing but candles and retreating backs were the only things left in the middle of a ballroom she so much wanted to fill it with glimmering sparks.

This time, however, was different. She did stumble; she did stammer and stop, she did want to run and lose herself in the emotions she had feared she would never get to experience again as she had turned and crossed a portal that had been bleak, colorless, the moment she took it all in.

Yet, this time, where she had stopped herself, her heart took charge and made her cross the room with magic so white it almost hurt glancing down. She could feel hands on her even before she was even aware they were there already, grasping at the jacket, yanking at the dress’ neck in a way that made her breathless and about to explode.

She, Regina, _Regina,_ was there, in front of her. Framed by light and power and future. The kind of one she had felt taken away right from her behind her feet as she had chosen to remain blind. Throat tight, throbbing with tears that crystalized and broke through, Emma felt her entire self loss itself as she tilted her head and gave into the kiss, fairy dust, and prewritten destinies be dammed as they fell around them, covering them from everyone else who was still watching; reasoning, questioning.

She opened her eyes later this time; with a smile on her lips that got chocked out of her as she found her hair tangled in sheets that, while familiar, weren’t the ones she wanted to stare at. Saliva accumulating on her mouth, lights dancing with almost masochist glee as the wee hours of the morning began to roll by, she took on the room, on the life she could see forming around her; trapping her in.

She pushed herself out the bed with perspiration silver-painted over her body, shade not so dissimilar than her own magic had.

She had a decision to make.


End file.
